


Alone Together (I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul)

by xxxintothedarknessxxx



Series: My Body Is An Orphanage (We take everyone in) [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 19:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxintothedarknessxxx/pseuds/xxxintothedarknessxxx
Summary: So maybe family doesn't begin or end with blood, but does it have to end with them either?





	Alone Together (I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul)

**Author's Note:**

> Pete is 21/22, Patrick is 16, and Andy is 17/18.

It was May 14 when Antonio sidled up to Pete at the music store.   
‘Peter Pan, my man. How are you doing?’  
‘It’s Pete, and I’m good. Why?’ Was he about to cut Pete’s hours again? His savings had to last long enough as it was.   
‘Don’t look so worried, I’ve got a favor to ask you.’  
‘Does it have to do with more hours?’ Pete wasn’t hopeful.   
‘No, but it concerns another talent of yours.’  
‘Oh?’  
‘I saw the great job you did with that kid.’  
‘Patrick?’   
‘Yeah, Patty.’ Good thing Patrick wasn’t there. He hated that nick name, even Pete barely got away with some of the ones he tried out.   
‘What about him?’  
‘You said you wanted to help other kids, now that you’re leaving the shoebox and all.’   
‘Yeah. What about it, Tony?’  
‘I know a kid sleeping rough. 17, no family. Put him up in a motel but it’s not good for long. The place is kind of a hell hole.’  
‘And you want me to take him in.’ Antonio nodded.   
‘Can he stay there one more night? I gotta talk to Patrick, make sure he’s ok with it. I’ve mentioned it before, but I don’t want to spring it on him. He’s my main concern here.’  
‘Understood, hermano. You talk to Patty and get back to me.’ Tony sauntered off, quietly confident in the little family.

Almost the minute he got home, Pete brought it up with Patrick.   
‘We talked about taking some kids in when we move, and you said you were ok with it, right?’  
‘Right.’   
‘I just wanted to check that that’s still the case.’  
‘Sure, I mean, why not? The more the merrier, but.’  
‘But?’ He’d never seen Patrick so shy and nervous.   
‘Do they have to know you’re not really my brother?’ Pete laughed, hugged the kid and ruffled his hair.   
‘’Course not, Pattycakes. It’s our little secret.’ Pete was pleasantly surprised by the kid, first for wanting to be known as his brother and secondly for hugging him so tight. ‘So, if I told you I knew of kid who needed somewhere to go…’  
‘I’d say great, bring ‘em in.’ So it was sorted. That night they cleaned up the apartment, and the next day Antonio brought the kid over. 

‘”The Shoebox”?’ He read, clearly not impressed by the sign on the door.   
‘Hey, I made that sign. It’s a small apartment, but Pete’s moving this weekend where he says you’ll have your own space. I know that you don’t know him, but I’d trust this man with my life.’ He knocked. The door swung open and there stood a guy, not much older than this kid and wearing too much eyeliner. The kid zoned out while introductions were made but figured out when to extend his hand.   
‘Nice to meet you, man. Patrick, come here a second.’ A red headed boy, younger than Antonio’s stray appears behind Pete.   
‘Yeah Pete? Oh, hey Tony, who’s this?’ He mutters a sentence that ended with ‘Hurley. Nice to meet you.’ He sticks his hand out to shake and the younger kid takes it, saying nothing. It might be to do with the fact that he’s dressed pretty grunge, all skinny jeans, wristbands, and a lip ring.   
‘This is Patrick, my kid brother. He’s a little shy, but he’ll warm up to you soon enough. Come on in.’ Pete thought it kind funny that ‘shy’ was a word you could use to describe Patrick. That was the last word he would have thought of the night they met.

The four of them sat down to dinner and talked for a while, Pete telling him apologetically that he’ll have to sleep on the couch for a few days until they move. He nodded and looked back down at his hands in his lap. He didn’t like this touchy-feely eye contact crap, okay? Maybe he’s been on his own too long. His mother was a loving woman, as was his sister, when she was around. He wasn’t bitter about it, she just had her own life.   
‘Hurley. Pete’s talking to you.’ His head snapped up at Antonio’s voice.   
‘What? Oh, sorry…what were you saying?’  
‘I was just asking where you’re from, Andrew.’  
‘It’s Andy. Only my mom calls me that.’ Pete raises an eyebrow subtly towards his boss, who shrugs as unperceptively.   
‘Sorry, Andy. Where are you from?’  
‘Milwaukee.’   
‘Wisconsin? How’d you end up here?’ His response is to shrug. Pete leaves it for now, thinking of it like Patrick’s grade in gym. He’d open up by himself soon enough. Patrick is the one to break the silence.   
‘Do you have any laundry? I can take it down with ours.’ Andy grabs his bag protectively.   
‘I’ll come with you.’ 

While they were downstairs Patrick took the opportunity to quiz the new kid on school.   
‘I’m eighteen soon. I’ll get my GED, and a job to pay rent. I want to go to college if I can.’ Andy said as he stuffed his clothes in a washer. Patrick hadn’t thought that far ahead. He turned the dial and closed the lid of the washer he just filled.   
‘Why do you live with him anyway? Your brother. Where are your parents?’ That was the golden question. Neither of them knew. Patrick followed Andy’s lead and sat up on a dryer, swinging his legs.   
‘You first.’   
‘My mom went out shopping with my sister one night. They were hit by a drunk driver coming home. I went to bed early and didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard the cops knocking on the door.’   
‘I’m sorry. That sucks. Where’s your dad?’  
‘Dead. I was 6, don’t even really remember him.’  
‘Oh. That’s rough. So you’re all alone?’  
‘Yeah. I’d be screwed if it wasn’t for Tony, scraping me off of the sidewalk.’ Patrick couldn’t help it, he laughs. Andy looks unimpressed.   
‘I’m sorry, really, I am, I just. I said the same thing once.’   
‘Tony scraped you off of the sidewalk?’ Patrick shook his head.   
‘Pete.’ Andy’s brow furrows.   
‘Pete scraped you off of the sidewalk?’  
‘Yeah.’   
‘Where’s your mom and dad then?’  
‘They’re…not around.’ This was true, they weren’t. Neither were Pete’s. In fact, Patrick’s pretty sure that Pete didn’t have a clue where his were. They (their parents) might as well be the same people. So far as anyone knew, they were.   
‘He seems a little young to be raising a kid.’   
‘You don’t trust him, do you?’  
‘I don’t know him.’ Neither did I Patrick thinks.   
‘He’s pretty good at looking out for people. He’s had a lot of practice. One kid he took in was working the corner and tried to pick him up on the street.’   
‘Where’s that kid now?’   
‘He’s at home with his family.’ Also true, just not in the conventional sense.   
‘Happy endings.’  
‘Yeah.’ The washers buzzed and they shifted their clothes into dryers before walking back upstairs. 

While Andy walked Antonio to the door, Pete pulled Patrick aside to have a conversation in whispered, hushed tones.   
‘How’d it go? He tell you anything about himself?’  
‘Yeah. He’s gonna fit right in here.’ Pete looked back at the kid and somehow didn’t doubt it. He caught sight of the time.   
‘It’s late, you should get to bed.’  
‘Don’t forget to take your pills, okay?’  
‘Pfft. I won’t forget.’ They hear the door close and speak in normal tones.   
‘Night, Andy. Night Pete. Take the clothes out of the dryer, ‘kay?’   
‘You got it, night, ‘Trick.’  
‘Night.’ Apparently in front of Pete, Andy didn’t feel much like talking.  
Patrick disappeared behind the curtain and was out like a light. That was, until he heard screaming.   
‘Hey! Get the fuck away from me! Stay back!’ Patrick looked through a gap in the curtains. Andy was wielding a switchblade at Pete.   
‘Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. What the fuck man? A knife? Put that thing down before you hurt someone!’ Pete had both his hands in the air. Andy shut the knife as Patrick spoke.   
‘What’s going on? Pete?’  
‘It’s fine Patrick, go back to bed. I got this.’ Patrick looked at the clock.   
‘What are you doing up anyway? Going out?’ Pete shook his head.   
‘I forgot to take my pills,’ he confessed, ‘Scared the shit out of Andy here knocking over a pile of boxes.’ At least they were taped shut.   
‘Sorry, I just…protection, you know? I learned early on that if you carry a knife, no one’s gonna mess with you.’ Sure he’d had his wallet stolen to teach him that lesson, but it had worked. No one came near him once he had the knife.   
‘No one’s messing with you. Just, leave it in your bag, okay? Don’t want anyone getting hurt.’ Andy nodded, stuffed the knife into his bag and pulled the blanket back over himself. Pete took his pills, and Patrick assumed, went to bed until he heard the front door click shut. Patrick lay awake all night, wondering what they’d gotten themselves into. Andy wondered too, when for the next two nights he was woken by Pete leaving and again by him coming in. The third night he was there, Patrick ran after Pete, telling him to bring a jacket if he’s going out.   
‘So what’s the deal with Pete anyway? You take turns playing dad or something? I mean, one minute its ‘Patrick, go to bed’ the next its ‘take a jacket Pete, its cold out’.’ Patrick looked to Andy, sitting up on the couch.   
‘Something like that. We look out for each other. It’s what brothers do, right?’   
‘I didn’t…when I was.’ Andy had never told a soul he was supposed to go with them for practice that night. He would have been in the driver’s seat, and he KNOWS his reaction time is better than his sister’s. Maybe they wouldn’t have died.   
‘You still are. I don’t think it changes just because she’s gone.’ Patrick wondered about his own brother sometimes. And Pete’s siblings. Were they still their brothers if they weren’t in each other’s lives? By blood, sure. Nothing could change that.   
‘I’d like to think that. That means somehow in the universe I’m still a son.’ If Andy still was, Patrick and Pete definitely were. It was a nice thought. He stretched and stood up.   
‘Hey, where does he go, anyway?’  
‘Pete? I’ll show you sometime. Night, Andy.’   
‘Night, Patrick.’

That morning was moving day. The last of the boxes were packed, the fridge emptied, and the bedding crammed into garbage bags on the back seat of Pete’s car, along with Andy’s knapsack and a box of bathroom supplies and medications-the kind of things you need right away. For being so run down, the elevator of Number 27 (why they called an apartment block that instead of giving it a name, they’ll never know) held up to its punishment. Patrick, Pete, Andy and Antonio (who might be under appreciated, Pete thinks) spent the morning stacking boxes into the hall, then filling up the elevator and unloading in the lobby. Antonio waited with the boxes while Patrick, Pete and Andy went back upstairs to fill the elevator with smaller items like the coffee table, night stands and the floor lamp Pete likes to read under, really anything to save time for the movers, who were being paid by the hour. By now they had arrived and were loading the boxes under Antonio’s watchful eye. He helped them unload and they went back for another, this time the guitars and record player to be stored in Pete’s boot.

Now they could sit back for a minute and watch the professionals take out everything else. The beds, the fridge, chests of drawers and the couch. The table and chairs from the kitchen, the bookcase, the wardrobe. Finally, the shoebox was empty. Pete took the sign off the door. Eventually it would hang in his office at the new house. 

They turned in their key an hour and a half after the movers arrived. ‘The security deposit goes back to Ryan, I’m just the sublet.’ He told the landlord. It took only ten minutes to drive to the new place, and Pete had already worked out a plan as soon as the truck door was open.

‘Bedroom furniture, follow me.’ Pete said, grabbing a mattress with one of the movers. The other two took the frame and the kids grabbed the other mattress before traipsing upstairs with Antonio to spot. Quickly the movers got the hang of which bedrooms were actually being used and freed up everyone else to shift boxes into the sun room. Tony was instructing the movers inside, so clearly Pete and Patrick thought they were alone behind the truck when Andy returned for another box.  
‘Does Andy know we’re not related? He was asking what our deal is.’  
‘If he does, I never told him, I swear. Antonio might have, though. He’s known me since I was seventeen.’ Andy imagined Patrick nodding silently, as though that meant something to him. ‘But this changes nothing, okay? You’re still family to me.’ Andy heard the sound of a kiss, an obnoxious ‘MWAH’, an assured ‘I love you, Pattycakes’, and Patrick’s reply.   
‘I love you, too, Panda.’ Andy caught sight of their hug as he left unnoticed with the next box in his arms. If he still thought they were brothers, he’d have made nothing of the way Patrick’s face was buried in Pete’s shirt, fists clenched in the fabric and Pete’s hand through his hair. Now he’s not sure what to think. He files it away under ‘needs more information’ and gets on with the work to be done. 

It takes two hours to unload the truck from start to finish, and most of the boxes aren’t in the right room, but the furniture is, so the heavy lifting is done. Pete’s ordered flat pack furniture for Andy’s room to be delivered first thing in the morning, so all that’s left for tonight is to choose a room. He’s an early riser by nature, so he thinks he’d like a room that gets morning light. That’s either the room next to Pete’s or the den downstairs. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he arrived though, so maybe the den is best. 

He throws his bag on the floor and appreciates the moment of solitude before searching for towels to take a shower. That’s if the hot water is on. It is, and they’re thankful for small mercies when they’re so damn tired they can hardly stay awake. Then someone digs out spoons and bowls from under a box of vinyl records and they eat cereal for dinner with no milk. That’s when Tony splits, wishing them well on the new place and telling Pete he’ll see him Monday. Then they unpack the car and Andy makes his bed up on the couch while Patrick takes his sheets upstairs and reminds Pete to take his pills.   
‘Yeah, and I think I might actually sleep tonight.’ He did. 

In the morning, it was moving day 2.0. After they let the delivery guys in, Pete and Andy assembled the bed, drawers and nightstand.   
‘I’m surprised no one’s worked out how to flat pack a mattress’ Andy quipped as they flipped, rotated and folded the instructions. Luckily though, Pete was getting pretty good at building ikea and it took far less time than when he’d done it with Ryan, and then Patrick. Finally Patrick emerged from upstairs and was getting irritated because he couldn’t find his novel.   
‘I have an English final tomorrow.’ He complained.   
‘What’s the book?’ Andy asked.   
‘Catcher in the Rye.’  
‘No sweat, I can help you with that. Come on, we’ll go look.’   
‘Not me. I have groceries to buy. Have fun kids, and don’t throw a party while I’m out.’ They rolled their eyes, mumbled ‘Yes, Pete,’ and got to work. They unpacked boxes of CD’s and records, and even shelved books in the living room. In fact, Pete got back before they finished looking and made them pause for lunch. 

‘You haven’t found the book yet?’  
‘No. All of my school stuff must be buried.’  
‘It’s ok, you can study without the book. I’ve read it a hundred times,’ Andy said, ‘I don’t think we’ll find it today, anyway.’ They studied up in Patrick’s room all afternoon and evening and when they came down Pete was setting up the dvd player.   
‘Perfect timing, there’s some movies around here somewhere. Dinner’s nearly cooked by the way.’ They found one, put it on, and by the end of it Patrick and Pete were asleep, cuddled up on one end of the couch. Andy threw a blanket over them, dumped their plates in the kitchen, and went to bed. 

In the morning they sent Patrick off to school before Pete left for work.   
‘Good luck, you got this. You know everything about that book, you’ll be fine. Oh, here’s some money for the bus-don’t be late,’ and then Andy headed out to the library to study for his GED. There’d be a test in a couple of weeks and he wanted a good score. Time to focus, Hurley. What would mom say? But the whole time he stared at the book in front of him he was wondering what the deal really was between the two of them. Eventually, he got so distracted that he broke for lunch. He’d been there 3 hours. Vegan fare was expensive and he spent $10 on a decent snack before returning to hitting the books. When he left he took the long way home (ok, he might have been a little lost. He didn’t know this part of the city) and ran smack dab into Pete.   
‘Andy. What are you doing here?’  
‘It’s a smoothie place. I wanted a smoothie.’ That was a lie, but since he was here…  
‘Oh, ok.’ Pete tried to hide his application.   
‘You want one?’   
‘Sure, the mango here kills.’ So Andy pretended not to notice and ordered two mango smoothies, taking his time coming back to the table so Pete could finish scribbling in his ‘Why I want to work at the smoothie hut’ essay in 25 words or less. They drank in silence.   
‘Look, if you could NOT tell Patrick...I haven’t lost my job or anything, I just, I need more hours than Tony’s got right now. I don’t want him to worry.’   
‘Hey, it’s none of my business.’  
‘Thanks, man. What are you doing today anyway?’  
‘Studying for my GED. Well, I was. Now I’m going home to find Patrick’s books, if I can.’  
‘He’s flipping out about a final tomorrow?’ Pete felt bad for a moment for letting that slip. He’d just had a lot on his mind.   
‘Yeah, he was muttering about what Pythagoras could do with that theorem.’   
‘Ah, trigonometry. Glad it’s not me. I thought about becoming an accountant, once.’  
‘What happened?’  
‘I suck at math and the dollar is down.’ Andy left Pete to his applications and figured the shortest way home, taking a wrong turn but ending up nearer to the house anyway. After an hour of searching, unloading boxes of pots, pans and dish towels, Andy gave up on finding it when Patrick came in.  
‘Change of plans, Patrick, library. I couldn’t find your math book anywhere.’   
‘I wanted to eat first, I’m starving.’ Andy remembered the protein bar in his pocket. He took it out and slapped it into Patrick’s palm.   
‘And now you have brain food, let’s go. I don’t know when the library closes and you need to learn trig by yesterday.’  
‘I know trig,’ Patrick argues, withering at a look from Andy, ‘ok, I know OF trig, and that’s basically the same thing.’  
‘It’s not. How’d you do in English?’   
‘Killed it. Holden Caulfield can suck it!’ Andy’s not sure what possessed him to high-five the kid, but he was a little bit proud.   
‘You see? My methods work. Let’s go.’ Patrick let Andy march him out the door while he tried to eat his protein bar. It wasn’t as awful as he was expecting, reading the word ‘vegan’ on the wrapper. 

True to form, Andy taught him everything he needed to pass the next day’s test. Though, he was a little worried about gym in the afternoon.   
‘You know they pass you just for turning up, right?’  
‘Easy for you to say, you aren’t the chubby kid coming dead last every mile.’ Andy gave him his sympathy and told him to suck it up, especially once he heard that 12th grade at Patrick’s school did NOT have compulsory gym. Tuesday night found them sipping smoothies at the hut, Pete’s treat, with Patrick going over the exam schedule.   
‘Monday, Band and English.’  
‘Band has finals? How did that go?’ Pete asked.   
‘Everything has finals now. It was fine. Mr. Sims told us when we finished we all passed. Which was a relief. I was worried when he asked us to help tutor the slackers and the kids who aren’t getting it, but we couldn’t just let them cut the program. That’s me and Brendon from class. He plays everything. The school board should de-fund something else.’ The music program was the last good thing about that place, and they both had a year left. They wouldn’t survive without it. Patrick told Pete and Andy this.   
‘I was a good student, but I would have hated school without band,’ Andy said, ‘I was a drummer, before.’   
‘I was a jock,’ Pete confessed, ‘An awkward jock, but an awkward jock who went all-state for soccer. Got a scholarship too. Full ride. Had to drop out though.’  
‘You in soccer shorts? I don’t believe it.’ Andy had a point. Pete was known for wearing skinny jeans and sweats.   
‘It’s true, he still has ‘em. Wears ‘em around the house sometimes.’   
‘Anyway,’ Pete cuts in, ‘that’s what you’ve been doing after school? Single-handedly saving the music program?’ He wondered if that counted as the ‘studying’ Patrick claimed to be doing.   
‘I wouldn’t say single-handedly. There was Brendon and Mr. Sims. Sims took wood wind and brass in zero hour, Brendon took guitars and bass in his spares, and I took strings and piano after school. We split percussion at lunch times.’   
‘You can play all that?’  
‘Uhh, sort of?’ He said it like a question. ‘I mean, not brass, but the rest of it, yeah, a little.’   
‘So modest. You’ll have to play for us sometime.’ Actually, Patrick had been hiding the letters the school sent home about the arts showcases they put on every quarter.   
‘Sure, sometime.’ He didn’t like to lie, but he couldn’t play in front of people, not for real in an actual performance.

‘What’s next on the schedule?’ Andy asked, thinking maybe he could be of help.   
‘Tuesday. Math and Gym. I think I passed. Moving on, there’s Science tomorrow and AP World History Thursday. I really need to find my books. Friday there’s Civics and Social Studies, and Monday is Geography. It was supposed to be last Thursday but they had to reschedule it ‘cause some kid let off a stink bomb. I studied for it and everything.’  
‘That’s only nine. Your course load is ten.’ Oh that’s right. He had a re-sit from last Friday on Tuesday. He’d panicked last minute and taken ipecac before the exam, mixing it into the soda bottle he’d brought into the room and barely making it to the trash can so that he’d be excused. Damn Brendon and his big ideas, his stomach bile had burnt coming up.   
‘Oh, yeah. Andy, you don’t habla Español do you?’   
‘Here’s a thought. Tony. He’s Latino.’ Andy was right, Antonio was always speaking in phrases that no-one understood, mumbling in Spanish under his breath.   
‘Good idea. You think he would help me this weekend?’ Patrick asked.   
‘Probably. Come with me on Sunday and find out.’ Pete offered.   
‘In the meantime, science. What are you covering?’ Science was not Andy’s strong suit, but most of it was biology and between Pete and Andy, they were able to help him get ready with what knowledge they had and the amount Patrick knew by heart. 

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for history. Patrick was worried and Pete and Andy both failed, so he headed to the library after school on Wednesday to see how much he could cram before 11.30 Thursday. He almost ran into Pete dropping an application in at a bookstore, and a Christian one at that. He pretended not to notice and walked the other way. When he got home he sought out Pete in his room, while Andy carried a box upstairs, pausing in the hallway at the sound of their voices. 

‘Has Tony cut your hours? I saw you handing in applications today.’  
‘No, ‘Trick, we’re fine. Consider it supplementary income.’ Supplementing the savings that are starting to run out, Pete thought, not that Patrick had to know that.   
‘Should I get a job?’   
‘Things are tight, but we’re fine. Your job is to focus on school.’  
‘We’re not ‘fine’. You just got laid off! We have another mouth to feed, and the rent here isn’t cheap, even if we DO have our own rooms.’ Patrick sounded old for a 16 year old kid, stressing about money like that. Then a thought occurs to him and he sounds unsure as he asks ‘Did you want me to work now?’  
‘I said no job, Patrick.’ But then Pete must have picked up on some subtle difference between the words ‘job’ and ‘work’, because his tone shifts from irritated to quietly hitting the roof, voice low and seething with a rage that terrified the younger man. ‘Did you not hear me the night I said that you would never need to do that again?’  
‘No, sir. I heard y-’   
‘Because I told you that you would never need to do that again, and that I wouldn’t ever want you to.’ He spoke more audibly this time.   
‘Yes, sir.’   
‘So why do you think that I would ever ask you to do that? Or let you ever even think about it? What the hell’s going on in your head?’ His voice grew louder still.   
‘I don’t know, sir.’  
‘Would you stop calling me sir?!’ Pete scared them all when he yelled, including Andy, who was rooted to the spot. He took a deep breath, calmed himself for a moment. ‘I’m sorry Patrick. I’ve been letting you worry too long about things that aren’t your problem. I know it’s pretty tight right now, but it’s definitely not forever. I have an interview with a friend in the morning, and it’s looking pretty good. That’s why I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to worry about nothing. And that’s what it is, nothing,’ Pete took a breath and continued, ‘I’ve looked after you until now, haven’t I? I will do whatever it takes to keep the roof over your head and food on the table. But even if tomorrow goes badly, it isn’t your job to provide for us. You let me worry about that, okay? I promise, Patrick, everything’s going to be alright.’   
‘I know. I’m sorry, Pete.’ He’s never sounded smaller.   
‘’S okay ‘Tricky. Come here. I love you.’ A minute later they emerged while Andy was still trying to work out what all that had been about. He pretended he’d been headed for Patrick’s bedroom door (well, he was, but not right then) and had turned at the sound of Pete’s creaking.   
‘I think I found all of your school supplies. There was only one box, right?’ Patrick nodded.   
‘Right. I should put that away, thanks Andy.’ He took the box and shut himself in his room. Andy met Pete’s eye, who shrugged and said, ‘Kids,’ before heading downstairs to watch the news. 

The next afternoon was like nothing had happened. Pete helped Patrick study Civics and quizzed him in Social Studies, which Patrick argued was a guaranteed pass.   
‘Better safe than sorry.’ Pete had said. Patrick had hit a wall sometime around ten and had gone to bed, books stacked on the coffee table. Andy turned back to the books he was studying for his own test next month. June 1st it would be held. He’d registered Thursday last week. 

Friday afternoon, Patrick was totally, completely wiped. He had nothing left in him, but he grabbed his textbooks and tried to conjugate Spanish verbs anyway. He wasn’t sure he knew how in English. Then he tried to re-read that chapter on air pollution in first world vs. developing nations, moved on to practicing pronunciation of words, and then back to the Geography textbook to identify kinds of clouds while Pete was dropping a box of utensils on the kitchen floor trying to finish unpacking the sun room.   
‘What was that?’ Patrick called.   
‘Nothing, just dropping shit everywhere. Go back to whatever you were doing.’   
‘Studying, senor. I’m kind of relying on these finals to up my grade.’   
‘Don’t work too hard.’ Pete quipped.  
He’d moved on to weather maps and useful phrases an hour later when Pete came back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a box of dvd’s.   
‘That counts as working too hard. It’s Friday night. Put down the books and come watch a movie.’ So Patrick did. Again they fell asleep cuddled up on the couch after the second bill, and Andy stumbled into his bed. He was awoken a couple hours later by Patrick shaking him, trying to stand back incase Andy woke up swinging.   
‘Andy, get up.’  
‘What? Patrick, its’ he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, ‘a quarter past two am. What do you want?’  
‘Pete just woke me up when he left.’ That piqued Andy’s interest. ‘You wanted to know where he goes. Get dressed.’ Andy got up and dragged his clothes on while Patrick grabbed his wallet and shoes.   
‘Take a jacket, it’s cold out.’ Andy joked. They really did take their sweaters though. ‘How do you think we’re gonna catch him? He’s had a really long head start.’   
‘It’s not the journey, it’s the destination. Follow me.’ Patrick had followed Pete the other night, worried about the mood he’d been in before his walk. He hung back silently and watched until he knew Pete would be okay, and then came back to the house with no one the wiser. Neither Pete nor Andy even knew he had left. It had been the perfect opportunity to map out the new route, complete with a shortcut, guaranteed to beat Pete to the place Patrick knew he would be.   
‘So we’re not following him?’  
‘No, that’d be creepy. We’re waiting for him there.’ They walked in silence through the city for a while, taking their time like a leisurely stroll at this hour was normal. Well, it’s not like it wasn’t for them.   
‘Where is ‘there’ exactly? It’s late.’ Andy didn’t have the slightest idea where Patrick was taking him.   
‘It’s not late, it’s early; and I hope you’re hungry. They serve breakfast at three.’ They turn a corner and walk down the same street that Patrick used to work. He pretends to think nothing of it as they pass his corner, then its five more minutes until they reach the all-night diner.   
‘You brought me to a diner?’ Andy didn’t seem impressed to be woken up for a greasy spoon, hole-in-the-wall that he’s pretty sure is stuck in 1978.   
‘It’s not just any diner, it’s actually pretty special,’ Patrick starts as they walk in, ‘plus, I can tell you what’s going to happen. Pete’s going to walk in at maybe ten to three. He’s going to sit in that booth at the back and flirt with that waitress, who’ll drown him in coffee and knows before he does what he’s going to order. Oh hey there, Meg. We were just talking about you.’ He flashes her his cutest smile.   
‘All good I hope. The usual booth? Scrappy isn’t here yet, Subtle, but I take it that you’re waiting for him. Who’s your friend?’  
‘This is Andy. Andy, this is Saint Meghan.’  
‘Just Meg is fine.’ She extended a hand for Andy to shake.   
‘You call him ‘Scrappy’?’ Andy’s smile reached his voice.   
‘Who, Pete? Have you seen him at three am with the eyeliner smudged and his hair a total mess?’ She smiled and led them over to their booth, starting them off with some coffee while they waited. 

‘So, Pete’s got a thing for the waitress?’ They watched her retreating back.   
‘Saint Meg? No kidding.’   
‘I guess she is really pretty. Why do you call her that anyway?’  
‘She did us a solid once when Pete scraped me off of the sidewalk. Served breakfast before three.’ He smiled at the memory. He was beaten and bruised, swollen and bloodied and she really could have intervened and screwed things up. Instead, she didn’t, and it lead him to accepting the helping hand Pete was extending. Andy knew that wasn’t the full story but let it go, focusing instead on the fight he overheard.   
‘Hey, what happened the other night? Pete seemed pretty pissed. Heard him yelling from downstairs.’  
‘Oh, that? That’s was nothing, just a little misunderstanding.’ Patrick was obviously covering something up.   
‘Didn’t sound little.’  
‘It was pretty bad, actually, but it was my mistake and all cleared up now.’ Andy decided just to put it out there.   
‘He’s not your brother, is he? You two look nothing alike. Plus, Antonio told me that this is what Pete does, but the only other kid anyone ever mentions is the one from the corner, and the only one who mentions him is you.’ Andy didn’t think he needed to tell him that he overheard them by the truck. ‘What’s the deal with that?’

‘You know how that kid became Pete’s? Of course you don’t.’ he added as Andy shook his head at the rhetorical question, ‘Someone beat him, robbed him, and literally kicked him out of a moving car.’ Andy’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open in shock. Patrick continued anyway. ‘He had no money for food and was about to be homeless because he was too injured to work and pay for his motel room. So Pete cleans this kid up, takes him home, feeds and clothes him, and even when the kid is throwing himself at him, he never takes advantage of him. Never asks for a thing in return. Just go to school and work hard. So, that’s what the kid tries to do.’  
‘I thought you said he went home to his family?’ Andy asks, confused.   
‘I told you he’s AT home with his family.’ Oh. The puzzles pieces fit together and suddenly the conversations in the study, behind the truck, and the story Patrick told make a whole lot more sense.   
‘It was you. The kid on the corner, that was you.’   
‘Yeah. We might not really be brothers, but I didn’t think it made a difference how we became family.’  
‘I don’t think it changes just because you aren’t blood.’ They clearly cared a lot about each other. That’s more than anyone could say for their birth families, who were alive but not around. Patrick appreciated the sentiment of his own reassurance lent back to him.

‘Damn right it doesn’t. What are you kids doing here?’ Pete dropped into the booth beside Andy and stealing Patrick’s coffee cup.   
‘Waiting for you. I wanted to show Andy this place and thought what better time than breakfast? By the way, Meg’s here. She looked a little disappointed that you hadn’t shown up yet.’ They waved her over to bring another cup, and Patrick and Andy settled in to watch the flirting game.   
‘So that’s waffles for you, with…syrup, Scrappy?’ Pete nodded confirmation, his pearly whites beaming up at the woman.   
‘Patrick. You’re the short stack?’ He nodded.   
‘Got it in one.’ Meg wrote it down, then glanced to Andy.   
‘And what can I get for you, Scary?’ Pete snickered and Patrick kicked him. A complete reversal of roles.   
‘Do you have anything without meat or animal product in it? I prefer my food exploitation free.’ She refilled their cups, smiling at him.   
‘We got coffee and toast with jam. I like a man with morals. Pete could learn a thing or two from you.’ Just as Pete pretended to look offended, she winked at him, earning back the smile on his face before leaving to place the order with the kitchen. 

Sometime before dawn, Andy would ask why exactly Pete does this. Go around saving people he doesn’t even know.   
‘I don’t. Patrick saved me.’ Andy gave Pete the same look Patrick did the night Pete told him that. Patrick, having heard this story, disappeared to the bathroom. He had a hard time thinking of Pete being suicidal.   
‘No, really. I was having one of my bad nights, and I didn’t see the point. I was weighing up the best time to step out onto the road when Patrick stopped me.’ Andy nodded like he knew. ‘Here was this kid who just needed someone to care, someone to give a fuck what was happening to him. I figured the least I could do was be that person. The hell if I knew how, but I had to try. He told me to fuck off.’ Andy chuckled, imagining quiet little Patrick telling Pete to get fucked.

‘Ok, so maybe there’s some paraphrasing here. Point is he didn’t want a bar of it. Insisted he could take care of himself.’  
‘Until that guy beat the shit out of him and threw him from a moving car.’ Pete raised an eyebrow at Andy’s addendum.   
‘He told you about that?’  
‘About two seconds before you walked in.’   
‘Oh. Well, that was what made him give in and just let somebody help him,’ Pete explained, ‘but the truth is, he really didn’t need me. At most he would have stayed somewhere shittier for a few days and gone back to the way things were. It wasn’t a great life, but he would have been alright.’   
‘And you?’ Andy pulled no punches.   
‘Me? I don’t know. I think I was just desperate enough to walk out that night. Either way, I’m here because of him,’ Pete paused and took a breath, ‘I’m not much. I mean, what can I give him? I’m 21, never finished college. No family, no one to come home to. Mentally ill and occasionally suicidal. Not a lot to offer. But I figure there’s one thing I can do-I can show him the good in the world. That’s all I ever wanted.’ He didn’t want Patrick’s childhood spitting back a monster like his did.   
‘Not much? You’re my family, Pete,’ Patrick said, dropping back into his seat across from the older guys, ‘and that’s more than enough. Would I have chosen it? No. But I’m glad you’re the family I have. And maybe you, one day, too, Andy.’   
‘You think?’ Andy really didn’t know. He was still closed off to the idea of finding family, feeling like that would betray his own. Unlike Pete and Patrick, it wasn’t his family’s fault they weren’t around.   
‘You’re here in the booth, aren’t you? Family tradition.’ Patrick smiled at him. It was a family tradition only because that’s where it all started. All eight and a half months of family history. Pete grinned, tired, and even Andy cracked a smile. Maybe the kid was right. Someday. 

That night they became more than just three guys sharing a house for a lack of other options or people to run to. It was the turning point of becoming a family (all three of them together). Pete and Patrick, having only had each other, embraced it with open arms. Andy, still grieving for his family, struggled with the concept of accepting a new one without rejecting his old one. It was slow going, but they got there in moments. When Pete got that new job (answering office phones and fetching coffee for Vicky, but at least it was something), Andy clapped him on the shoulder. When Patrick passed all his finals and got some really good marks, he took him out for (vegan) ice cream just like any older brother; and when Andy got his GED (college-ready score) and started applying to schools at the end of the summer, Pete and Patrick asked him to apply in state (so they could visit) or local, so they could stay together, and that sounded like a great idea to him.


End file.
